Insurrection is a Thing of the Spirit
by KirielAmbar
Summary: Silver Millennium. "Shitennou" was just a nickname after all - the peoples' way of categorizing the men who served Earth and the Crown until the needs of the two became irreconcilable. A study of the meeting of the four.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon

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><p>Castle Eurig rose out of the trees, dull and shadowed in the morning fog, as Saif of the King's 9th Legion rode down a low path by the outer wall. A modest dry-stack, collapsed in some places, the wall symbolized the carelessness with which the kingdom regarded its security in the long years of peace since unification. The once sharp stone of the castle keep was covered in patches of soft green moss and the wax thumbprints of thousands of candles, blood having long since washed away from the yellowing stone which gave the fortress its name.<p>

Saif couldn't remember the castle having ever been different than he saw it now, warm and worn, and a far cry from the fierce stronghold borne of fear and death. He was blessed, they said, to live in a time when he could expect to grow old next to his family and die peacefully in a home that hadn't been torn down by raiders.

He hated it.

He despised the idea of having never been tested, having never been required to prove that he was more than a name and a rank. Tirelessly Saif trained, encouraging his men to put dents in their armor and his, to be brutal because the enemy would and be honorable because the enemy wouldn't. No matter how difficult he made it to stumble into a bedroll at the end of the day, though, he couldn't shake the feeling that when faced with an adversary of blood and fire instead of sackcloth and sand, he would stand no chance.

Now summoned to Eurig by his King, Endymion I, a small spark lodged itself in Saif's chest. Perhaps he would be given an assignment that would help him slough off the weariness of inaction and finally feel useful to his kingdom and his liege. As per the instructions clearly outlined in the letter, supposedly written in the King's own hand and sealed with his ring, no entourage accompanied the soldier in his travels. This suited Saif, solitary in his methods and habits, and he had made quick time to the fortress which held the heart of the realm and its people.

"Halt. State your purpose."

A guard, poleaxe at the ready, regarded Saif coolly as he approached the broad iron portcullis. Reaching into his cloak, Saif produced the King's letter and handed it to the guard.

"Saif of the King's 9th. I have been summoned."

The guard glanced over the letter, turning it a couple of times in an attempt to verify its authenticity, as Saif waited patiently. He would not begrudge this man a few interesting moments in what must have been on most days a dull profession. Finally, a wave of the guard's hand was followed by the slow, creaking, and deliberate raising of the ancient metal door. Nodding respectfully, Saif reclaimed the letter and urged his horse onwards.

The bustling sounds of people and animals echoed dully through the gatehouse, becoming distinct as Saif reached the wide green ward. He dismounted, shielding his eyes from a sun just high enough to peek through the ridges of the battlements, and handed the reigns of his horse to a boy that had approached with a quiet, "I'll take care of that, sir." Thanking the boy, he strode towards the keep, the denizens of Eurig castle more concerned with their daily work than the quick pace of the tall, long-haired man in the tattered grey cloak. Stranger or not, soldier or not, they had known peace so long that a sense of invincibility had settled over them like a blanket or, as Saif had often thought, like a fog.

Endymion had apparently already been alerted to his visitor's presence, and he sat in the throne at the end of the great hall beyond the scattering of courtiers and long, dark wood side tables. Black and gold banners of Eurig kingdom fell gracefully from the ceiling, embroidered solar cross glinting faintly in the flickering light of sun and trees in the high, narrow windows. The King rose, as Saif approached and genuflected gracefully.

"My Lord," he began, eyes cast downwards.

The soft shuffling of shoes on stone directly in front of him caused Saif to look up. Endymion motioned for him to stand.

"Commander Saif, walk with me a moment."

"Yes, my Lord." Rising carefully, Saif moved quickly to catch up to the King who was already on his way out of the great hall and down a narrow passageway. He found himself wondering just how old the King was, white-streaked hair and yet swifter to move than some of his young soldiers. Sure of footfall and sensible in his manners, Endymion glanced over at Saif.

"Commander, I have a new assignment for you. I will not require you to accept it, as you are invaluable in your position as leader of my 9th, but I feel certain that you will not turn down so important and rewarding a task."

"I go where you tell me." Saif said quickly, nodding, with no small amount of anticipation.

A slight laugh from the King caused the soldier to falter slightly.

"In that case, you will go where my son tells you."

"My Lord?"

Endymion stopped walking suddenly, gesturing to Saif to hold back as they approached a small wooden door. Slowly pushing the door ajar, the king peered inside. Following his liege's gaze, Saif saw a scrawny young man perched on a chair with a large book on his knees. His black hair fell into his face and he squinted at the pages, deep in thought.

"He," the King began, smiling briefly, "is my son, Endymion the second. He is fourteen and I have decided that its time for him to start traveling. Diplomatic relations depend on the king being able to look into the faces of his fellows and convince them that he can be trusted. Obviously he cannot go alone, so you, Saif will be his teacher and guard." Saif paled.

"My Lord, I am honored, but I have no experience-" Endymion shook his head, a somewhat mischievous look on his face.

"Its too late, Saif, you already promised me. Besides, you have nothing but experience training new recruits. This will not be any different. My son needs to learn how to defend himself, needs to learn astronomy, astrology, strategy, and how to conduct himself in court. You will take care of the former, and find others to teach him the latter."

Allowing himself a single resigned breath, Saif bowed.

"I will serve Eurig in any capacity required of me."

Endymion slapped Saif on the back cheerfully and they continued walking what seemed to the former Commander of the 9th to be a long... long... hallway.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon

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><p>"Why is your hair white? I thought you were from the Middle East."<p>

Saif, sitting at a small desk in the corner of the library, looked up from a stack of letters of varying length and handwriting, at his new charge. Endymion II, slender and awkward, sat with his legs folded underneath him next to a similar pile of letters. These applications for the positions of Royal Advisor ran the gamut from brief and barely legible to mind-numbingly long-winded and arrogant, but the Prince had insisted on helping to select his new teachers. Saif approved, knowing that making these sorts of decisions was important to Endymion's development, but with the caveat that he himself held veto power.

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that, My Lord, a childhood illness perhaps, or a curse."

Endymion shook his head and tossed another letter into a wide woven basket at his side. He narrowed his eyes at his teacher, not in meanness, but in an obvious effort to figure out the mystery sitting across the room. Very quickly, Saif had grown accustomed to those stares, directed at anything in the castle Endymion thought worthy of mentally disecting, so he did not take offense, but instead sat very still. Finally, the prince sighed and slouched back in his chair.

"I will figure it out, Saif. I've been reading about illnesses quite a lot recently, and I think they are far more common among people than all of these curses and evil magic. Who has ever seen dark magic anyway? It doesn't make any sense that we should blame our problems on something we can't fix..."

The Queen, Aster, had advised Saif that Endymion was a quiet young man, always lost in a book or a scroll that he had dug up from some recess of the library. He only opened up, she said, when he trusted the people around him, and so not to be offended if it took them a while to have a real conversation. While it turned out to be true that the times they talked were slightly one-sided, it was not because of some strange shyness on Endymion's part, but rather an inability for Saif to get a word in edge-wise. It suited the older man well, never a conversationalist in his own right, and what else was an advisor for, but to be an available ear for his Prince?

"...but I'm sure I can figure out why you're so pale compared to most other people."

Saif nodded, only slightly bemused. "I'm sure you can too, My Lord."

Several more letters, from both sides of the room, found their way into the discard basket. The two had been at it for the better part of three hours, slowly sifting their way through numerous applications, and so far finding no suitable applicants. There were plenty of aged scholars and experienced warriors both, as well as crafty courtiers who guaranteed that their particular brand of knowledge would serve the future king well. Aside from Endymion's personal wishes that his teachers not be so old as to die before he even became king (though Saif suspected that it had just as much to do with the prince not wanting any more authority figures than absolutely necessary), they both recognized the danger in hiring anyone who would try to make the young man a puppet for their own goals. Peace may have meant safety for men-at-arms, but it was the opposite for potential heads of state. Peace meant time for individuals or groups with strong opinons to plan moves against the crown and state, and they seldom did so while keeping the existing monarch's safety in mind.

Having made it through half of his stack, Endymion jumped out of his chair and began pacing back and forth, flipping rapidly through the remaining letters and haphazardly discarding the ones that did not interest him. He paused occasionally and mumbled things that Saif couldn't quite hear from his spot near the curtain-shaded window. As he pondered the young man's words, Saif considered the idea that his condition could in fact be an illness, and perhaps even a cureable one. He didn't dwell on it most days, having lived with it his whole life and gotten used to the perplexed and wary looks sent his way, but little things that he did to make himself more comfortable sprang to the front of his mind. He grew his white hair out, not because of any vanity, but because it kept the sun off of his face and neck. For that same reason he wore long pants and sleeves even on the hottest days, and thanked the gods that his people were experts at weaving light and airy fabrics. Saif hid it well from his men, not wanting any weakness to undermine their confidence in him, but he could occasionally hear the whispers of 'Ghost' when he turned his pale blue eyes away.

A piece of paper in front of his face, and the abrupt cessation of Endymion's footsteps, drew Saif's gaze upwards. The prince looked excited as he waved the letter back and forth.

"Saif, read it! I think I found a good one!"

Saif took the letter from Endymion's hand and scanned it as his charge moved behind him to lean down and read over his shoulder. The description was simple, and straightforward, a happy departure from the endlessly flowery tirades of most of the previous examples.

_Name: Aranck_

_Position: Second son to Balard of Chapultepec, kinsman of the Queen, Aster of Kyrenia._

_Achievements: Swordsmanship, Riding, Astrology_

Frowning slightly, Saif handed the letter back to Endymion.

"My Lord, do we know anything about this person? There isn't much information here."

Endymion nodded enthusiastically, folding the letter and placing it in his vest pocket.

"He is the one who taught me how to ride! His father is one of my mother's close kinsmen, and we spent a couple of summers together when I was a child. He has always seemed trustworthy to me, and he is very capable. What do you think?"

Knowing Endymion, this Aranck was probably younger than Saif would have preferred. The last thing he wanted was to collect a group of trainees when what he needed were equals, but the prince seemed so sincere in his assesment, and there was less chance of betrayal when the candidates were not yet well established in court. Saif would make sure that they knew where their alegiances lay, and the penalty for forgetting.

"I think it would be a good idea to summon him here for an interview, My Lord."

"Good! I will let my father know right away!"

Saif quickly gathered up the strewn papers and tossed them into the basket before heading out the door and down the hall after the excited Endymion. He began thinking about other methods for finding teachers, as the prince was obviously more convinced by personal experience than written applications – not a bad trait in general, but not very efficient either. Tomorrow, perhaps, they would go around to some of the kingdom's schools and test the potential of their top students.


End file.
